


Cotton Candy

by objectivity



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure tri.
Genre: Comedy, F/M, First Dates, Michi - Freeform, One Shot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:20:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27081079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/objectivity/pseuds/objectivity
Summary: [ONE-SHOT]Try a dating app Taichi, they said. You'll find your true love, they said. Apparently I 'needed' it. I pause when a lady with crazy pink hair grazes the screen. Her profile reads, "If you treat me to dinner, I'll treat you to dessert." I accidentally swipe right.Oh shit.
Relationships: Tachikawa Mimi/Yagami Taichi | Tai Kamiya
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Cotton Candy

Apparently, I'm missing out on life.

That's what my friends tell me – that's what they _always_ tell me. At first I didn't care. I don't usually let what people say dictate me. However, it's been glaring at my face as each year fades past. People mature, but I still feel the same. Would that mean something's wrong with me?

A friend proposes. A friend gets married. A friend purchases a house. A friend has a kid. A friend buys a dog. I'll stop there, but you get it right? When your friends are updating you on their latest family pet, you know your life is fucked. Nobody talks about which girl you screwed over the weekend, getting pissed drunk, or studying for the latest college exam, or applying for jobs. All my friends have jobs now, and so do I.

My job isn't a stable one. I'm stuck in the air most of the time. Literally. When you've forgotten how many planes you've been on, how many flights you've taken, and the fact that most of my time is spent slipping between country to country, you'd what I mean. And perhaps that's why I'm not steady as my friends. I don't have the time to commit because my lifestyle isn't designed for stability or relationships.

It shouldn't be a problem now, Yamato had said to me. He had clunked his beer to mine at the izakaya last night. He tends to get all 'motivational speaker' on me whenever he's had one too many drinks. We had celebrated my new promotion, with him being possibly more happier than I was when I told him I'd finally be stationed in Tokyo. I couldn't be in transit forever. I was getting older and the long flights were taking a toll on my body, especially with my back chronically aching.

When Yamato proclaimed that I had run out of excuses to _not_ settle down, I had to agree with him because there was _some_ truth behind it. And because I had agreed to him, Yamato thought it was within his reason to steal my phone from my hands.

The next thing I know is that he's downloading Tinder and creating an account on my behalf. Of course, throughout it I had been attempting to snatch my phone back, only to have the boys barricade me. It had been easy slapping Koushiro and Jyou out of the way, but when you have Daisuke – an old soccer friend (who is a machine because he's the only one who works out these days), and Takeru (who is an energetic nutcase, especially when he's married to my insane sister), there is no way _but_ to concede to their nuisance. Five against one isn't fair at all. Some friends they are. If I could disown my friends, I would.

They had jabbed and made fun of me all evening. Instead of celebrating my promotion, they were guffawing at me until their faces were red. The bastards.

However, despite the irritating situations they put me, I hadn't deleted the app.

After dining out with my supervisors after work, I had kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto my bed. I had promised myself that I would get up and shower later (my manager smokes like a chimney and the stench of tobacco will be permanently stuck to me if I don't), but here I am, still laying down on my phone and browsing through what Tokyo has to offer like I'm shopping online.

I keep the photo that Yamato has made as my main picture. I like it. Despite loathing him for making the account, the picture of me in my business suit with my tie around my head like the typical OG businessman is kinda amusing. So I leave it. I could change it, but I don't have any recent pictures of myself anyway.

I find that swiping left becomes a pattern. Nobody is appealing and I feel foolish for going through the listless faces. I should delete this, but I've found it oddly addictive. The profiles are boring. Some are standard and simple, others are too bold and sleazy that it makes me feel sick in the stomach.

Try a dating app Taichi, they said. You'll find your true love, they said. Apparently I 'needed' it.

I pause when a lady with cotton candy pink hair grazes the screen. Her dress is mainly white, with a pale pink sakura pattern print, more prominent on the bottom of the dress, but when it gets to her chest, the white dissolves the pattern.

Her profile reads, " _If you treat me to dinner, I'll treat you to dessert._ "

Damn. Seriously? Where are the normal people? I shake my head, but I do something I immediately regret - I accidentally swipe right. A notification flashes, telling me that we've matched.

Oh shit.

I dunk my face on the pillow, groaning into it. _Idiot._ Why am I such an idiot? Why am I getting embarrassed? That's it. I'm deleting this.

' _So what about dinner_?'

A notification pops up on my phone, and all I can do is stare at it in horror _. Ignore it, Taichi._ I tell myself. I throw the phone onto the other side of the bed, but my heart is pattering, curious and wondering where the conversation will lead if I were to reply. Maybe I'll just pretend she didn't reply. I'll delete the app. Yes, that's what I'll do.

Rolling onto my back, I stretch across the bed for my phone. Instead of deleting the app, I keep playing around with it. Since we've matched, it couldn't hurt to check out the rest of her profile, right?

The other photos look normal. She actually looks better with caramel brown hair. Another photo is her standing in front of the Statue of Liberty. Another with a peace pose in front of an Egyptian pyramid, and another is of her in a scarlet bikini, tanning by the beach. She's well travelled. Why hadn't she put any of her other photos her display picture? She is rather pretty from the other photos I had sourced that didn't involve her with hair being doused in unnatural pink dye.

I scroll to my messages, pondering whether to delete the app or reply. I mean, her response to the immediate match has been bothering me. The fact that she spoke first, that she is dangling bait at me with an opening line like that, does make want to respond. After all, I don't know how this app really works and it's kind of rude if I don't reply, right?

' _If you promise to treat me to dessert?_ ' I type back, chuckling to myself and my own lameness.

' _Sure :)_ '

My throat dries up. Is she implying what I think she's implying? Is she really this daring to say something like this to a complete stranger?

More sentences pop up. _'Not tonight though. It's already late and I've already had dinner. Are you free tomorrow? Do you like ramen? I'm craving ramen.'_

I laugh. She types fast on the phone that it's a challenge to keep up with her banter. She's leading this conversation like a pro, and it's kinda refreshing how talkative she is.

Maybe she's more talkative in real life? It's good if she is. It gets tiring being the main person pulling out topics out of my ass from right, left, and centre.

I've dated quiet girls in the past, and either they don't say what's on their mind (before going all combustion mode on me), or I get bored that I end up dumping them. Hikari calls me heartless, but I don't think I can ever handle being with a woman who can't talk back to me, or cannot express their own opinion. I'm not into passive girls, who is always a 'yes' person, won't fight for what they believe in or agree with everything I say. Just no. If I ever get paired with somebody like that, I'd rather be single for the rest of my life and the end of the Yagami clan can end with me.

Then again, on this app she appears to be chattery, however in real life she might be a different story – she might not utter a single word. In real life? I shake my head. Am I already imagining this? Am I already, am I _actually_ considering going ahead with this date?

I swipe through her photos again, debating with myself. Asides from her wild pink hair, she seems fun. Nice figure, curvy at the the right parts and a vivid, photogenic smile. She knows her angles by the way she flaunts and poses for the camera. It's her eyes that are a giveaway. There's something lively and wild about that. I contemplate whether she will bring out the worst or best in me. The longer I stare at her photos, the more intrigued I get.

And it's now that I know I don't think I can watch this opportunity slip away. Curiosity always knows how to play, how to rewire my head.

 _'Are you the Tonkotsu or Miso ramen type? Either way, I know a good place that is drool-worthy._ '

She replies back, ' _I'm always in for drool-worthy. I love food. Oh, and Tonkotsu broth is the best!'_

By her choosing ramen to eat, she seems pretty simple. If she's keen about a ramen restaurant (which is generally not a high-end place), if she's not too picky about the fatty content, it also means she isn't on a diet. It's not often you come across a girl who handpicks ramen for a first date. Some girls, even some guys, get embarrassed about slurping noodles in front of the other sex. This indicates that she also doesn't care about that, and that she must really like ramen to suggest it and to actually want to go ahead with it.

We exchange numbers and I provide her with the time, and details.

The conversation doesn't end there though. We keep talking, as in she actually goes ahead to call me. Her voice is light and pleasant to the ears, just like her bright laughter. She tells me that she studied in the States when she was a teen, but is technically half-Japanese and has lived in Japan most of her life. I somehow brief her how if I hadn't gotten injured, I would have wanted to be part of Japan's soccer team. She counters that she used to do cheerleading and that soccer is practically the same. I dismiss this comment completely, and my blood is boiling. It's only when I'm on a fiery rampage, Mimi – that's her name - lets out a mischievous cackle on the other end of the phone, that I know I fell for her trap and had made a fool out of myself. She had intentionally wanted me to lose my shit for the sake of poking and teasing at me. The damn woman.

We hang up when the sun rises. We had spoken so long that neither of us had noticed that it had peaked the early hours in the morning. And, from how we've been speaking, it felt like I've known her longer than this. The conversation is alive and animated, that even I know she's noticed this because it takes a while for us to hang up on each other.

I double shot my coffee as I yawn, pulling on my suit. I need to get to work. My hair is still damp from the quick shower, but it's better to leave my apartment now because I might end up crawling back into bed. Although half-awake for most of the day, the only thing that motivates me to get through the mundane work day is the date that I have on tonight...and the thought of this makes me smile periodically to myself, on-and-off throughout the shift, causing my co-workers to send me concerned gazes.

Not like I care.

.

* * *

.

She's prettier in real life. Black thigh-hugging leather pants, a gold, glittery tank (that shows a nice amount of cleavage, yeah you'd stare too), beige heels. Her wavy hair isn't all pink, like displayed on her Tinder profile. It's more the tips of her hair that are dyed in a pink pastel that vaguely reminds me of cotton candy. The natural look is something I usually go for, but somehow she's making this work. Her lips are full, eyelashes long, and her skin is a shade darker than the average colour women go for in Japan. She could pass as a foreigner.

Mimi surprises me when she greets me with a kiss on the cheek. I kiss her back anyway.

It must be because she's lived in the New York for a while, that it's slipped her mind that skinship _is_ a big deal here, then again...who am I to say this? I've done my fair share of travelling and have developed and adopted customs from other countries that are looked down on here. If I hadn't travelled, I wouldn't have realised how strict and structured Japan was in contrast to other countries.

She studies me, lips curled into a smirk. "You're taller than I thought."

"Am I meant to take that as a compliment?" I tilt my head.

She only laughs at me, striding past, heels clicking against the floor as she enters the restaurant before me. The workers greets us as we take a seat by the bar. Customers give us a second look. I don't blame them. Mimi is stunning, and she is _also_ over-dressed for a ramen place, with her shimmering golden tank standing out amongst the dark-after-work business attire. I take my blazer and place it around her shoulders. "What?" she attempts to shrug it off, but I hold a hand to beckon her from taking it off. "It's hot, Taichi."

"More like you are."

She rolls her eyes at me.

"I'm not joking. You look too good here that you're an eyesore to the other customers." That, and I don't want everybody looking at my date the way I am.

"Am I meant to take that as a compliment?" Mimi repeats the same question I had asked her, and from that mere comment I know that this date is going to be amusing.

We place our orders and I add an extra side of gyoza, which Mimi seems appreciative for, considering her eyes gleamed in excitement when the waiter had jotted it down. Her smile grows wider when both our bowls of tonkotsu ramen arrive. She doesn't even wait for me, digging into the bowl with her chopsticks, slurping the noodles up and ignoring the fact that she's splashing broth all over the place. It's an amusing and a amazing feat watching her inhale her meal.

"...so your type is Nagase Tomoya?" I murmur. "Why is that?"

For some reason we've stumbled across the topic of what our types are. She's picked some middle-aged man from a band called TOKIO. Out of all celebrities, she picked a rocker. Now that's something I _hadn't_ expected.

"He's handsome. Tall. Funny." She's counting all the good points of this celebrity, tapping each finger. "Oh, and he's tanned too. Like you..."

It's then that I catch her _really_ staring at me. Mimi's head is tilting onto the side as she studies me. Her scrutiny makes me look away from her, and I can feel a blush coming on. It takes a lot for me to get flustered, yet somehow she's managed to do it with ease.

She asks the same question back, "How about your type of woman?"

"Wonder Woman," I say, confidently.

What's there _not_ to like about her? With that lasso of hers, I'd let her rein me in any day, if you know what I mean...

I'm not typically into films with the lead being a female protagonist, but Wonder Woman had stolen the light and my heart that night I had watched the movie. Yamato regrets making me third-wheel Sora and his date because, apparently, I could not stop speaking about Wonder Woman – to the point that he threatened to shut me out of his car and ordered me to get laid. The asshole.

"I get that. I'd turn gay for her," Mimi agrees, clinking her pint of frothing beer with mine.

Mimi's more talkative - if that's even possible - in real life. Our conversation doesn't go dry, and she really is entertaining to be around. She catches me off guard with her random comments.

When I pay for our meal, we push our stools under the counter and make our way out of the restaurant. It's a looming, dull feeling in the pit of my stomach, knowing that we'd have to part sooner or later. When the restaurant door shuts close behind us, we're met by a street of bustling cars, glowing in the dark. I don't want to say goodbye.

"Dessert at mine, remember?"

I raise an eyebrow. The comment she said on Tinder, I thought that had been a joke. Is she really serious about this? Isn't it too soon? Or am I just an too old, an old man that won't get on with times? I mean, I won't turn down sleeping with a beautiful woman, but I actually had a good night and I wouldn't mind asking her out for a second date. If we screw tonight, wouldn't that make this night out naught? Will it ruin my chances and won't it get awkward between us? The main thing is if we go ahead with this, will I ever get a second chance to see her again?

Or maybe, all this time, she's been playing with me? She _is_ pretty good looking, so pretty that I'm sure she can score any guy she lays her eyes on.

Her hand clutches onto mine before I can protest, and before I know it, she's sweet-talking me to her place. I'm tempted to kiss her in the taxi, but I don't. For once, I actually _don't_ know what I want. I don't know what I want from this; from her. I know people use this app to sleep around, because their bored, to get over exes... _yada, yada, yada_. But isn't it sad that society has come to this? Are we all too shy and socially awkward to meet someone at a bar, to approach someone and to take a chance? And especially with a woman like Mimi...she's pretty, confident enough to do whatever the hell what she wants, yet she's taking me to hers...

Taking off my shoes, I follow her inside the house. The place smells like vanilla, and the walls are painted white with light brown floorboards. The interior is quite minimal, but what accents her apartment is the large painting of Audrey Hepburn in the lounge room, and the touches of pink and white roses in vases on every surface possible. A mix of fashion and cooking magazines take up her bookshelves and she's got this cute little grey kitten (Coco) prowling around, hissing wherever I step near him as he guards his sacred territory.

After handing me a plate, she mutters to me to rate each cake in order, before leaving me, and muttering under her breath that she needs to go to the toilet.

I'm dumbfounded.

Mimi _is_ serious. She really _wants_ me to try her dessert. I'm baffled at the five cakes lined up, cut into perfect tasting squares. One looks like chocolate, the other is red velvet, a strawberry shortcake, a baked cheesecake, and a black forest cake. She wants me to test out her cakes!

I'm laughing. This woman...she's a crack up! She's baked all these cakes, and she really wants somebody to try them out. I mean, there's even a piece of paper and pen to prompt me to rate each cake.

Shrugging, I get started. My taste buds are dancing by the end of the rotation. Everything had tasted great. Then again, if you've ever lived in my mother's household, anything cooked by somebody in the outside world tastes sublime. My mother probably could get a Guinness world record for creating a new poison from the way she cooks. I'm not joking. Her culinary skills even once hospitalised Koushiro. The funny thing is that I'm not even kidding about it – my poor friend is terrified of my mother now.

Even so, these cakes _do_ taste great. It's stupid of me not to connect the dots when Mimi told me she was a chef. I've never been much a sweet tooth, but I do like and appreciate the cakes that Mimi has baked.

"You're still here?" Mimi's startled voice reaches me.

She's changed into a loose unicorn patterned shirt, and short shorts. I peel my eyes away from her legs, and glimpse back upwards at the surprised look on her face. She speaks, "I didn't expect you to stay..."

"You asked me to try your dessert."

"By now the men leave because they get upset I didn't actually mean to sleep with them-"

"So this is a test?" I murmur. There's a bitter edge in my my tone that's escaped me. I can't help it because I am disappointed that she's steeped this low to play around with some guys. If she really thinks-

"Kind of, but no," she admits. "I am starting a cake business, so I've been trying to source input from men as well as females."

I say, "So tonight wasn't a date?"

Initially it seemed amusing that Mimi had planned this out, but now I feel stupid for being here. Did Mimi really use a dating app to get people to vote on which cakes tastes the best?

Mimi doesn't look me in the eye. She looks guilty. "Nobody really ends up coming over after dinner. There's only been two guys previously. One tried to make a move on me, the other stormed away."

"I'm not surprised," I say.

"But I didn't expect to get along really well with you," Mimi admits. "I usually scare people or weird people out with my personality. The pink hair freaks people out too...but I like it, and I'm not going to change it for anybody else except myself."

"You shouldn't be using the app to drag guys in like that," I say, running my hands through my hair. I don't know what to make out of this. I'm half amused by this, but half insulted.

However, it's the next thing that she says that shuts me up...

"I don't have friends."

Because I haven't replied, she keeps going, "I told you how I moved around a lot as a kid. Since I moved around a lot, I wasn't able to make long-lasting friendships. I've moved back to Tokyo last month, and this was the only way I could think of making friends. I've tried going to social meet ups, but nobody will approach me because of how I look."

"You look fine."

"Think about it, Taichi. If you saw me on the street, would you come up and talk to me?"

My silence is enough of an answer. She does have a point, but this approach of making friends isn't the way to go. Yet, somehow, this makes her even more intriguing. How did she even come up with the idea? What makes her think the way she thinks?

"No," I finally speak up, choosing my words wisely. "Not because of your hair...I think I'd just be intimidated."

"Intimidated?"

"Yeah," I murmur. "You're half Japanese, and you are quite the looker. Most people, even Japanese women, would feel intimidated by you because of your appearance. I'm actually surprised we even matched, that you even liked me."

"Well, I thought you were cute-"

"So this is a date?" I laugh. This woman can't make her mind up. She had more than one reason making her dating account. One, to make friends. Two, to get people to test out her cakes. Three...maybe she had been serious about finding somebody to date? And, from the look in her eyes, I can tell that she really had been attempting to hit all three birds with one stone.

Her cheeks are flushed, lips slightly curving upwards. "Maybe."

She's interesting, and kinda cute that I can't completely dismiss her, especially when she's not completely denying that this isn't a date.

I smirk. "Really now?"

It'll take what I can. It'll have to do for now. Even if we've just started whatever we've just started, it's a game I'm willing to play. I'm all in, and it appears Mimi is game too.

We don't spend the night tangling up in sheets. I want to take it slow, and not fuck it up in one go. We do, however, get comfortable on the couch as she puts on a movie. Ironically, out of all movies, Mimi selects Wonder Woman and I have to to refrain from almost kissing her on the lips.

By the end of the movie, her cotton candy hair tickles my neck with each breath she takes, as she quietly sleeps in my arms.

Perhaps I can get used to this...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
